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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444184">Progress</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/can_i_slytherin/pseuds/can_i_slytherin'>can_i_slytherin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Getting Together, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, sorta - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:35:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/can_i_slytherin/pseuds/can_i_slytherin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jaskier seeing Geralt and Yennefer went a little differently?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>207</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Progress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Geralt and Yenn only kiss in this, they don't have sex. </p><p>But, regardless, I hope you enjoy! Happy Reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Seeing Geralt run into the steadily crumbling house, after someone he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>just met,</span>
  </em>
  <span> had left an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. There was a possibility that his- </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>Witcher would not return. If he died before Jaskier got to make his dramatic declaration of love, he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, something else sat in his chest, beneath the fear. Something dark and painful that dug it sharp claws into his heart and </span>
  <em>
    <span>squeezed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something that left him feeling deflated, dampening his spark. It left him wanting to curl up in his bed and cry himself into incoherence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Insecurity, something that he hadn’t felt since he was a boy, had crept up his throat, leaving no way for his breath to escape but in shallow wheezes. It had left him quivering, even in the heat of the mid-afternoon sun, and he had curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his middle as a way of comforting himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried to shake himself out of his stupor, tried to convince himself that the only reason Geralt ran in there was to repay the favour to Yennefer for taking the time to cure Jaskier. But, then, the Djinn had disappeared into the heavens, leaving nothing but the ruins of a once brilliant house in its wake and taking Jaskier’s heart with it. For if the Djinn was still alive, then his Geralt was not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The weight of the news forced him to his knees, leaving him numb and lost. What would happen to Roach? Would he take her? What would happen to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Would he ever recover? Would he spend the remainder of his measly human lifespan finding pieces of Geralt everywhere he went? Would he see the Witcher’s hair in the snowfall or perhaps his eyes in the sunrise? Would he hear the growl of a wolf and think, even for a moment, that Geralt had returned to him? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would there be anyone else that Jaskier would love as fiercely as he had loved Geralt of Rivia? The White Wolf. The Witcher. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His </span>
  </em>
  <span>Witcher.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps not. Perhaps with Geralt gone, he would hang up his lute and cease to perform because, after all, what was an artist without his muse? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh then</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Chireadan had knelt in front of him, heartbreak in his eyes as he laid a hand on his shoulder, and nodded briefly towards the house. “They’re alive,” he had said and, despite the certainty in his voice, Jaskier cursed at him in disbelief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had hastily climbed to his feet and rushed towards the window, hope blossoming in his chest. Was his Witcher truly alive? Would he, once more, see Geralt’s smile that he tried so hard to hide? Would he finally, after over a decade of pining, admit his feelings? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The answer, it seemed, was no. The reason? Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken, was amidst the throes of a liplock with one Yennefer of Vengerberg and Jaskier's heart truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>broke</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Perhaps the correct phrasing was </span>
  <em>
    <span>shattered</span>
  </em>
  <span> because it seemed, in fact, that his entire chest convulsed with the force of his emotions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled away by Chireadan, letting his mouth run away from him as he filled the silence with false happiness and witty quips. Someone, like the Elf Doctor, who had not known him very long would not notice a difference in his behaviour. Would not notice the artificiality of his smile or his laugh. Would not see the pain nor the tears in his eyes. Would not hear the hitch in his breath as he struggled to restrain his sobs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doubted, very much, that Geralt would notice either. No, not at all. Not now that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful Yennefer of Vengerberg </span>
  </em>
  <span>had stumbled into his life and Geralt stumbled away from Jaskier and into his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you be able to make it back to the main town by yourself?” Chireadan questioned, arching an eyebrow at Jaskier when he tripped over his own feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bard blinked at him, forcing a smile and nodding exaggeratedly as he tried his level best to hold back his tears. “Yes, I am more than capable, thank you. I must seek out a tailor to replace my clothing and, then, perhaps, I may find an inn to stay at. I fear that I’m quite tired.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the Elf gave him a knowing look, smiling sadly. “I can imagine that you are.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned on his heel, bidding Jaskier farewell, before disappearing off down the road, leaving this dreadful town and its equally dreadful witch in his dust. Jaskier ought to do the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, he took his own advice for once. With tears in his eyes, he trudged his way back to the town, searching for his required service people and giving them the little coin that he had. Geralt would likely have more, but he was otherwise indisposed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having scored a room at an inn, for a small price, he trudged up the stairs and collapsed in his room, sadness finally zapping the last of his energy, leaving him thoroughly exhausted. Perhaps he could nap before forcing himself downstairs to squirrel a lift out of town. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he nuzzled into the covers, letting his eyes slip shut, he wondered if the pain would ever pass. If he would look back on this day and laugh at his own dramatics. It seemed unlikely. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When he awoke again, it was dark outside. Likely, the early hours of the night, Jaskier guessed, judging by the moon peeking over the mountain tops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was unsure what woke him up, to begin with, but then he saw the figure in the corner of his room, sitting century in the chair there. Jaskier huffed and shook his head, glaring up at the ceiling. Fate clearly was not on his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier,” golden eyes stared at him from the darkness, their depths turned molten by the moonlight, “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier, in an unintentional imitation of Geralt, grunted in response, turning towards the window so that his back was to the Witcher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another grunt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was shuffling from Geralt’s direction before the bed dipped beside him. Jaskier shuffled as close to the edge as he could get, as far away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and burrowed into the covers, closing his eyes and attempting to ignore the Witcher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier, are you hurt? Do I need to retrieve-” Geralt didn’t get to finish his sentence because, in a fit of jealous, depression-fueled rage, Jaskier leapt out of the bed, storming over to where he had thrown his shoes earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tugged them on, ignoring the stinging in his eyes and the tightness in his throat. He couldn’t bear to hear Geralt's false concern. Couldn’t bear to look into the Witcher’s eyes after knowing that, just moments before, he had been with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Couldn’t bear to be near him and know that someone had touched Geralt in the way that Jaskier so desperately wanted to. Couldn’t listen to his heartbeat and know that it didn’t beat for him, the way his did for Geralt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Geralt questioned, his voice riddled with confusion and shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Away from here,” Jaskier said, snatching his doublet off the floor before tugging it on aggressively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Witcher made a noise of protest, springing from his place on the bed to stand before the door, blocking Jaskier’s exit with his body. More fool him, there was a perfectly good window that Jaskier was more than happy to jump out of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact, he may do just that. He changed his direction, stalking towards the window. He even got as far as throwing it open and jumping up onto the ledge before Geralt wrapped an arm around his middle and pulled him back into the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier thrashed against him with all his might, kicking and punching at the Witcher in an attempt to get Geralt to let him go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate you!” He cried, tears pouring down his cheeks, and he slumped into Geralt’s arms, despite his every effort not to. He simply no longer had the energy to fight. “I hate you, Geralt of Rivia. I hate you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed, something like pain in his tone as he tightened his grip on the bard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Jaskier near-screamed. “You let me go!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not until you talk to me,” Geralt urged, bringing Jaskier further into the room and settling him on the bed. He was surprised when the bard stayed there, curling in on himself and burying his head in his hands. “What has got you in such a state, bard?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t act as if you care, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the venom with which he spat his name made Geralt recoil. “Not all of us can be emotionally constipated </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastards</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier!” Geralt hissed in warning. “Perhaps, rather than insulting me, you could clue me in as to what I have done to hurt you so much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can you not know?!” Jaskier sobbed and launched himself to his feet, tearing his hands away from his face to tangle in his hair, tugging harshly at the strands. “After </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything, </span>
  </em>
  <span>how can you still not see?! Has she truly blinded you so much?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this about Ye-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DON’T FUCKING SAY HER NAME,” Jaskier roared, scaring himself with the volume of his voice. He hadn’t meant to be so loud, but he supposed that his emotions must have run away with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt arched an eyebrow at him and hummed softly. “So, it is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier shook his head, swallowing thickly, and wiped angrily at his tears before stomping towards the door a second time, hoping that Geralt wouldn’t get in the way this time. His hopes were misplaced. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within seconds, his exit was blocked by a wall of muscle and he punched Geralt in the chest as hard as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his fist as he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Fuck</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <b>You</b>
  <span>.” He snarled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier, please, we’re running in circles here,” Geralt soothed, trying his hardest to get the bard to open up to him. It pained him deeply to see Jaskier so upset and especially when he was the cause of that hurt. He wanted to do everything in his power to remedy it, to see Jaskier smile again. He had always had the most beautiful smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jaskier hissed, turning on his heel to resume his pacing about the room, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>running in circles, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying to run away. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>won’t let me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you cannot run away from your problems, Jaskier,” Geralt huffed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jask-” The bard cut him off before Geralt could get the last syllable of his name out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whirled around to face the Witcher, eyes red-rimmed and puffy and brimming with fresh tears. “Has it ever occured to you, Geralt, that perhaps I may have feelings?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of cour-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was a rhetorical question,” Jaskier barked out. “Because, Geralt, I do and, at the risk of sounding childish, you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jaskier,” Geralt replied, his eyes filled with pain and pleading. “Please, tell me what I have done!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unable to refrain any longer, Jaskier let the last of his tether break, allowing his emotions to pour over his dam. “YOU FUCKING KISSED HER, GERALT, HOW ARE YOU SO DENSE?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That same infuriatingly adorable frown crept onto his face and Geralt cocked his head to the side before a sense of clarity washed over him his eyes brightening and posture straightening. “Oh, Jaskier.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jaskier hissed. “No. Don’t you dare. I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want your false sympathy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt took a step forward. “Oh, Jaskier.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” the bard hissed. “No, don’t you dare give me that tone of voice.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier, listen to me,” Geralt commanded, letting just enough authority slip into his voice so that Jaskier would actually listen. “What you saw at the Mayor’s house was not what you think.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a child,” Jaskier rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t explain this away. I know damn well what I saw.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed and took a step closer, delighted that Jaskier didn’t move away this time. It was progress. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It is what you think, we kissed, that much is true, but that’s all it was.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, why did the pain in his chest make it seem like there was more to it? Why did Jaskier feel like he had been cheated on- even when they had never been together in the first place? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seeing you there, with her, kissing her. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>- still hurts. It’s killing me, Geralt, knowing that I wasn’t quick enough, knowing that you slipped through my very fingertips before I’d even had the chance to close my fist around you,” he admitted. It was a thinly veiled attempt at being coy, but he hoped that Geralt, for once, understood what he meant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sighed, brows pinched together as if in pain, and he lifted his hand, cupping Jaskier’s cheek. The bard tried his hardest not to lean into his touch. “Jaskier, what do you feel for me?” His voice was soft and low, as if speaking to a spooked animal. It made Jaskier feel far too warm and comfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you can’t work it out yourself,” Jaskier turned his head away, casting his gaze to the floor, trying to pull away from Geralt’s touch, but he wouldn’t let him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt moved his hand from his cheek to beneath his chin, forcing him to look up into those gorgeous gold eyes. “I need to hear you say it, little songbird,” Geralt murmured softly, scared that he’d break the atmosphere if he spoke any louder. “I need the confirmation.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, so you can reject me and proclaim your undying love for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Jaskier spat, a terrible attempt at a joke, his tone far too sour with jealousy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, so I may return the sentiment,” he smiled, a rare thing, when Jaskier’s head snapped up, a spark of hope in his eyes and his eyes narrowed incredulously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t mean that,” Jaskier said, shaking his head in an attempt to force himself out of whatever trance Geralt had him in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What you saw at the manor lasted mere seconds, Jaskier,” Geralt assured. “It was an idiotic moment of weakness between two people far too keyed up from a fight. Both people felt unbelievably guilty following the kiss- both were undeniably in love with someone else and it felt wrong, far too wrong, to be enjoyable. Now, this is no excuse, but, songbird, my lark, my bard, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I hated every second I spent with her because it was not spent with you. I hated the press of her lips against mine because they were not yours. I hated it, Jaskier, I hate </span>
  <em>
    <span>myself </span>
  </em>
  <span>because I have never loved anyone more than I love you. Jaskier, I will spend the next decade attempting to make up for my wrongdoings. I will move heaven and earth to make you smile again, to mend my mistake. I will fight Destiny herself if it means earning your forgiveness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was crying again. Good tears this time. A tightness in his chest that meant warmth and love rather than coldness and pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate you,” Jaskier hissed, no real heat behind his words. “But, you are definitely going to grovel, Geralt of Rivia, for many days before I even </span>
  <em>
    <span>consider </span>
  </em>
  <span>the thought of forgiving you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled and dropped to his knees directly at Jaskier’s feet before reaching up to take Jaskier’s hands in his own. “I, Geralt of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, The White Wolf, a mere Witcher, kneel at your feet, Jaskier, the Witcher’s Bard, my dearheart, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>beg </span>
  </em>
  <span>that you gift me with your forgiveness, so that I may, once again, be graced with your beautiful smile and your equally beautiful voice.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re just flattering me,” Jaskier scoffed, lightly kicking Geralt’s knee and rolling his eyes. But, he didn’t pull his hands away, didn’t try to escape. It was progress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier, there is no sound sweeter in this world than the sound of your voice, my dearest songbird, I could never tire of listening to you sing,” Geralt whispered, pressing light kisses to his knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll remind you of that the next time you tell me to shut up,” Jaskier teased and, this time, there was genuine mirth in his voice. A smile, one that Geralt had dearly missed, tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was progress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was enough and, maybe, with enough grovelling, Geralt would be too. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feel free to leave comments and kudos, if you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
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